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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29481060">Homeboy Gets A Haircut</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mela1223/pseuds/mela1223'>mela1223</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Midnight Poppy Land (Webcomic)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Like smutty smutty smut, Nope just kidding it's also smut, Quite literally just fluff, Romance, eventually lol, fLUFF CITY</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:48:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,512</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29481060</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mela1223/pseuds/mela1223</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Poppy's turning 25, and Tora has a birthday surprise up his sleeve...</p><p>Inspired by Lilydusk's Patreon post, you know the one.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tora/Poppy Wilkes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>164</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>122</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Stop moving</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneAndOnlyTako/gifts">OneAndOnlyTako</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/CopyPastel/gifts">CopyPastel</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a silly one-shot, inspired by conversations with OneAndOnlyTako and CopyPastel that might have a second smutty part in store???? Ya know what, yeah. It is. I just decided lmao</p><p>As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon, do it! You will NOT regret it, trust and believe! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Stop moving</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“Shit, Quince. Fuck. Careful where ya pointin’ that thing.” Tora leaned back sharply on the kitchen stool, fingers grasping the edge of the counter as Quincey tried to pull him back by the shoulder.</p><p>“Whoa! Down, boy,” the blonde man pulled his other hand away from his brother’s face, fingers clutching a blade. “Honey, I don’t want to ruin that pretty face, but if you keep flinching, you’re going to be going home looking a lot more like my twin than you’d ever wanted.”</p><p>Tora huffed through his nose, clenching his jaw, “when in the <em>fuck</em> have I ever wanted to be ya—” he cut himself off, raising an arm and easily breaking free from Quincey’s hold on him. This was fuckin’ stupid. Bobby wasn’t gonna fuckin’ like it anyway. Just cause she liked how the style looked on her favorite show’s bartender-turned-psychic didn’t fuckin’ mean she’d like it on him. “Fuck this—was a bad idea, I’m leavin’. Just gonna buy her some fuckin’ chocolate, get her another plant.” He stood up, making to grab the jacket off the back of the stool.</p><p>“<em>Tch</em>, Tora. Sit back down, come on,” Quincey said, grabbing the jacket from his brother’s hands and tossing it across the room where it promptly fell into the kitchen sink. Tora felt his mouth drop open, knew well enough there were fuckin’ wine glasses in there from the night before when Quince had invited them over to watch the fuckin’ bachelor show. Red wine. On his favorite fuckin’ jacket—the one Bobby liked with the superman logo on the back. Said it made him look like a snack, <em>pfft</em>. She came up with the cutest shit. He turned to look at Quincey, couldn’t even summon the anger. At least the therapy was workin’, he thought as he pushed past his brother, picking up the jacket from the sink. One of the sleeves had landed in a glass of wine-tinged water, vaguely purplish-red, like a bruise—couldn’t tell yet if it’d stained. Maybe Bobby’d know how to get it out. He sighed, squeezing the excess liquid as Quincey came around the side.</p><p>“I’ll get it dry-cleaned, but you need to sit.”</p><p>“Can do my own fuckin’ laundry, ya little shit. Never comin’ over again,” he grunted.</p><p>Quincey shook his head, sighing as he leaned against the counter, the blade still held between his fingers as his hand flopped limply to the side. “Tora, this is such a sweet idea, please don’t back out now. She’s going to absolutely flip her lid, not to mention you’re going to look,” he raised his hand to his mouth, kissing his fingertips, “chef’s kiss.”</p><p>Tora ran his tongue over his teeth, rubbing his thumbs over the wet spot on the jacket. He’d thought it might be a good idea last night after seein’ the way Bobby’d drooled over the man on the TV—the right side of his head shaved and a slit cut into his eyebrow. Thought it might be fun to see how she reacted to seein’ the look on him for her birthday—he’d been plannin’ on cookin’ for her. Had taken those classes with Quince every other Wednesday night the last few months learnin’ how to bake a cake from scratch—if the last couple years had taught him anything, he knew she liked her sweet shit. And she cared more about the things he did for her than shit he could buy her. But it hadn’t seemed like <em>enough</em> for her twenty-fifth. A quarter century. Shit, she deserved the fuckin’ world. If a haircut could make her even happier…he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he heard Quincey slowly inhale, trying to contain his excitement as he watched his brother change his mind.</p><p>“Ya fuck it up, and—”</p><p>“Oh honey, I’m not going to,” Quincey cut him off before he could finish his threat. Tora sucked his bottom lip between his teeth.</p><p>“Fine, let’s get this shit over with.” He moved back to the stool, placing the jacket on the counter as he sat down, eyeing the blade in his brother’s hand before glancing at the clippers resting beside the large pink salt crystal his brother had started keeping on the counter during the trial for <em>good vibes</em>. Quincey bit back a smile as he quickly moved to stand in front of his brother, one palm grabbing Tora by the forehead, angling his face up and to the side. “Shit, Quince—”</p><p>“Stop moving.”</p><p>“Quince, ya gonna—”</p><p>“Talking is moving, stop moving.”</p><p>Tora rolled his eyes, clenching his jaw as he glared at the ceiling above the fridge. As Quincey hummed to himself, brushing Tora’s eyebrow with a little spiral brush, Tora huffed, staring at him out of the corner of his eye.</p><p>“Okay, I’m happy to do this, I really am. But you can’t stare at me like that, it’s creepy,” Quincey said, pulling back from Tora’s face until Tora rolled his eyes again, returning his glare to the ceiling. “Why don’t you just close your eyes, mmkay, tiger? It’s a little nerve-wracking,” he said. “You’re going to put holes through my ceiling.” Tora opened his mouth, but Quincey cut him off again, “what did I say? Talking is moving, stop moving.”  </p><p>A low growl worked its way up Tora’s throat as he closed his eyes. Fuck, he couldn’t even look at the fuckin’ ceiling? He thought of Bobby as he finally felt Quincey lower the blade to his eyebrow, the man’s palm slightly sweaty on his forehead. He was doin’ this for her. <em>For her. </em>A minute later he heard Quincey hum again. Tora blinked his eyes open, keeping his head still as his brother removed his hand, examining his work. “Okay, this might sound weird. But if we weren’t brothers—”</p><p>“Ah, fuck, Quince. Get outta here with that shit,” Tora scowled at him. Why’d he always have to take everything one goddamned step too fuckin’ far?</p><p>“I’m just saying,” Quincey enunciated the last syllable as he wiped off the blade, picking up a cloth from the counter and running it over Tora’s eyebrow. When he pulled it away, Tora could see little hairs of different sizes stuck to the material.</p><p>“Need a fuckin’ mirror,” he said, moving to stand.</p><p>“Ah, ah, ah,” Quincey pushed him back down as he exchanged the blade for the clippers. “We’re not done yet.”</p><p>“Quince, if I don’t like how it looks, I’m not lettin’ ya chop half my hair off.” Personally, he didn’t really give a shit what his hair looked like, but he knew Bobby liked it long—she’d told him enough times. He especially liked how it felt when she pulled it, and she really liked pullin’ it. He swallowed at the thought of what her fingers would feel like on his scalp, licking his lips once, his jeans a little tighter. “Fine, just make it fuckin’ quick. Gotta get home before Bobby does.”</p><p>Quincey nodded emphatically, quickly pulling the comb from his back pocket that he’d placed there earlier that night, insisting it was an essential part of <em>getting in character</em>, whatever the fuck that meant. He tilted Tora’s head to the side, running the comb through his hair multiple times. “You have a hair tie?”</p><p>Tora removed the strawberry tie from his wrist, passing it to his brother’s outstretched fingers—though he didn’t wear it often anymore, terrified of losing or breaking it, he’d decided to pull it out tonight. It was special, wanted to make this night as special as possible for her. <em>The big two-five</em> as her Granny had kept sayin’ the last couple Sunday night dinners. <em>Pfft</em>, he really liked the old lady, reminded him a lot of Alice. Wondered what the old bat would think of the new look, <em>pfft</em>. A moment after Quincey had secured most of his hair back, Tora heard the clippers buzz to life. He gritted his teeth, making eye contact with the blonde man on an inhale. Quincey raised his eyebrows at him in a silent question. “Do it.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The world needs this</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tora prepares for Poppy to come home from work. Tiger’s a lil nervous (even though he has no reason to be cause like…🥵🥵🥵)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I guess it’s 4 parts now heh heh @Begonia, you did warn me lol</p>
<p>As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 2: The world needs this</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tora pulled the cake pan out of the oven, shaking his head to himself. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, ya stupid dumb fuck,” he muttered as he set the pan down on Bobby’s wire rack, tugging off the oven mitt and running his hand through his hair again, huffing at the sensation of the undercut. Shit, it really had been a bad fuckin’ idea. Didn’t help that Quince hadn’t shut up about it either, his brother’s eyes growing wider with each buzz of the clippers, his mouth falling open as he tried and failed to contain a high-pitched squeal. Tora’d had half a mind to walk out before he was finished, but Quincey’s fingers had gripped his scalp in a vice, preventing him from moving even an inch, determined to finish what he’d started. <em>The world needs this, Tora. Needs this, </em>he’d said. Fuck.</p>
<p>Since he’d gotten back to their apartment, Tora had alternated every couple minutes between pulling his hair up and taking it down, every so often reaching to rub at the plastic strawberry whether it was tangled on his head or resting along his pulse point on his wrist. He’d avoided the mirrors so far, but he really had to take a piss. It’d been hours—he’d finished cooking her birthday dinner and baked her a fuckin’ cake in the time that he’d been home. Tora sighed, rubbing at his brow as he turned the oven off, moving out from the kitchen and padding toward the bathroom. He hadn’t decided how he was gonna show Bobby, yet. Still had a little bit of time before she was home—not <em>that</em> much, though, he realized as he checked his phone, rolling his eyes at the notifications from Quincey.</p>
<p>@Quince: She home yet?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>@Quince: [link]<br/>@Quince: You should send in a headshot to Lao’s agency ^^^<br/>@Quince: Don’t deprive the world of greatness, Tora.</p>
<p>@Quince: She home?</p>
<p>He tucked the phone back in his pocket, unzipping his fly as he flipped up the toilet seat, glancing over at the mirror on the back of the door as he relieved himself. He gritted his teeth, couldn’t really tell that there was a difference with his hair down, shoulder length the way Bobby liked it. He reached up with his free hand, lifting the hair up slightly and catching a peek of the buzz cut underneath. Fuck. <em>What in the hell had he been thinkin’.</em> Maybe he could buzz it all off—she’d never know. Nah, he thought, shaking off over the toilet before flushing and moving to wash his hands. Couldn’t imagine she would like that, and on her <em>birthday</em> no less. It’d take forever to grow back out. He frowned at his reflection in the smaller mirror over the sink as he dried his hands, ducking his head so he could fully see himself in the slightly-too-short circle of glass he’d hung just above Bobby-height. Wasn’t a perfect solution—she usually had to stand on her tiptoes, neither of them quite able to use the designer piece that Quincey had gifted them as a housewarming gift— hence the cheap, plastic rectangular one they’d bought at Ikea a year ago for the back of the door. He ran his hands up into his hair, pulling it all into a knot on the top of his head. The shaved side made his jaw look a lot sharper than the left side of his face—the lack of sideburn really changing his profile. Goddamn, he really hoped Bobby liked it. At least the eyebrow would grow out quick, if she didn’t like that, it wouldn’t be that big a deal before it’d be like he’d never made the mistake of goin’ over to Quincey’s. But the whole goddamned side of his motherfuckin’ head? Shaved? He ran his palm over it again, the hair felt fuckin’ fuzzy, like the plant Bobby kept in the window of their bedroom—<em>lamb’s-ear</em>, she called it.</p>
<p>“Ya stupid son of a bitch,” he said to his reflection, shaking his head as his eyes fell on the white powder he’d spilled down the front of his shirt. Tora groaned, why the fuck was everythin’ goin’ wrong? It’d taken him three tries to brown the fuckin’ butter—once more than he’d budgeted time for, and the rest of the process of bakin’ the damn cake had quickly devolved into a sprint to the finish line. Made a fuckin’ mess. He quickly peeled the shirt off over his head and padded over to their bedroom, tossing it in the empty hamper as he opened the drawers looking for a replacement she’d like. That <em>had</em> been her favorite—a black t-shirt she’d bought him a couple years ago with a dinosaur on the front that was a little tight around the shoulders, the sleeves squeezing his biceps a little more than he’d normally go for. But he liked the way she jumped him whenever he wore it, the feel of her hands running up and down his arms, along his traps. And he’d <em>just</em> thrown a fresh load of laundry in with the jacket, so of fuckin’ course most of his shirts were out of commission. Shit. He shook his head, walking back out to the kitchen, realizing he should clean up the fuckin’ flour, all the baking ingredients he’d left out, before changing, otherwise he’d probably just need to repeat the process over again. She’d gotten on his case about leavin’ shit out, not putting stuff back where he’d found it—wasn’t gonna give her any reason to get upset on her birthday.</p>
<p>He flipped the cake out of the pan, hissing at the hot metal on his fingertips as he tapped the spongy layer out the way the instructor had shown them before loading it into the dishwasher. The baker had also said that icing would melt all over if he tried putting the cream on top too soon after removing the cake from the oven, so he’d tucked the bowl with the fresh whip into the fridge beside the strawberries after preparing it, hoping the cream would stay…what, creamy? Shit. As Tora turned to wipe down the counter, he froze. Soft footsteps approaching the door to the apartment, definitely Bobby’s, he could tell the sound of her anywhere, the feel of her. Fuck. He quickly grabbed two plates, laying them facedown over the bowls of ramen he’d prepared and scooting them back on the counter before picking up the wire rack with the cake and pivoting frantically around the kitchen. There was nowhere to hide the unfinished cake—their apartment was fuckin’ small. She’d end up seein’ it wherever the fuck he stashed it, and he didn’t want it to get ruined.</p>
<p>“Hey, I’m home,” Bobby called from the front door as he heard her push open her way into the apartment. He set the cake back on the counter, quickly throwing a dishtowel over it, hoping she wouldn’t see it.</p>
<p>“In the kitchen, sweetheart,” he replied, patting his hands nervously on his jeans moments before he realized he hadn’t put a shirt back on. Could almost laugh at how stupid it all was. He leaned his head back, huffing at the ceiling, hands resting on his hips, letting his eyes close briefly as he listened to Bobby approach from behind him. A moment later, he felt her fingers on his lower back, rubbing light circles above his hips before she slid her palms around to his front.</p>
<p>“Whatcha doing, Tiger? Smells good.”</p>
<p>He laughed softly, lifting his hands and resting them on top of hers as he felt her press her lips to the center of his back, her body warm, soft against his. Shit, of course it wasn’t a fuckin’ surprise—the apartment smelled like brown butter and sugar, hints of seafood and salt from the ramen. “Well, I <em>was</em> tryin’ to surprise ya, Bobby,” he said, shaking his head, “but shit went sideways somewhere between brownin’ the fuckin’ butter and Quincey tossin’ my jacket in his dirty fuckin’ wine glass.”</p>
<p>“Hmm?” he listened to her inhale against his back, the skin under her nose cooling slightly at the sensation before she exhaled warm air. “Browning butter? Quincey’s wine?” He felt her rock her head along the dip of his spine. “What in the world…”</p>
<p>He laughed against her, his fingers slipping between hers as she stroked the grooves in his lower abs, fuck, he loved it when she did that. Usually led to her hands goin’ lower. “Like I said, Bobby. Wanted to surprise ya.”</p>
<p>“Mmm,” she pressed her lips to his back again, “still doesn’t explain Quincey.”</p>
<p><em>Fuck,</em> he thought with a swallow.<em> Now or never, moment of truth</em>. If she liked it, he knew they were in for one hell of a night. If she didn’t, well. He could always wear his hat while the cut grew out. Tora lifted her hands away from his stomach, rotating in her arms until he faced her. Watched as her soft smile immediately dropped, he mouth falling open as her eyes went wide, could hear her breath catch in her throat as she gazed up at him. He tightened his jaw, could feel his brows drawing together in doubt as he bit his bottom lip. Slowly, she reached her hand up from his waist, sliding her palm up his side, the koi on his chest, up his neck until her palm was smoothing up his jawline and over the buzz cut. He swallowed, letting his eyes flutter shut, biting back a groan at her touch as she threaded her fingers along the long hair at the edge of the trim. A moment later, she lowered her hand back to his face, her thumb running over his eyebrow, pushing it up with firm pressure from her hand as he blinked open, meeting her gaze. His mouth ran dry as the heat in her eyes, her pupils dilated slightly, her lips parting as he watched her breathing quicken.  </p>
<p>Tora brought his hand up to one of the braids along the side of her head, running his fingers down the length of her twisted hair as he took a chance, pulling his lips into a smirk he knew would show one of his dimples the way she liked, “whaddaya think, Bobby.” When he reached the end of the braid, he tugged lightly once as she inhaled sharply before pushing his head against her palm, her hand falling to his chest as he bent down to murmur against her ear, “ya up for a test drive?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I’ll be honest, it’s been so refreshing to write completely clan-related and angst-free. I mean, I know there’s always Tora angst re: self-doubt and stuff, but Tiger’s in therapy and working on it which is just such a better headspace to write from.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Touchin' ya</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tora and Poppy (begin to) get it on **cue Ginuwine’s “Pony”**</p>
<p>NSFW, obvi</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I gotta say, writing smut for an established relationship where both people are vocal about what the fuck they want was hooooooooot like 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵 someone call 911 Mela has collapsed of thirst </p>
<p>As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 3: Touchin’ ya</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tora pulled back from her ear, pressing his lips to the edge of her jaw as he felt her nails dig lightly into his chest where he knew the koi fish were inked across his skin. She loved to trace them with her fingers, her tongue. Fuck, he really wanted to feel her tongue on him. Could feel her hum as he trailed kisses down her throat, his heartrate speeding up, the sound of their breathing growing ragged in the quiet of their small kitchen, still warm from his use of the oven. His cock throbbed against his jeans and he groaned as he felt Bobby press her palm to his length, rubbing up slowly then back down. “Fuck, Bobby,” he murmured low, as he felt her laugh against him.</p>
<p>“Was thinking about you all day,” she breathed as he brought his hands to her waist, stepping toward her until he’d backed her up against the counter.</p>
<p>“Oh yeah?” he pressed his lips to her throat, smiling against her skin as she hummed again. “What about me, Bobby?”</p>
<p>She laughed again, tilting her head as her hands moved to stroke his shoulders, up around the back of his neck and back down. “I think you have an idea.”</p>
<p>“Mmm,” he ran his hands up her sides, skimming the undersides of her tits with his thumbs as he heard her inhale sharply, “enlighten me, Bobby. What was I doin’?” He kissed her throat again, opening his mouth to press his tongue to her skin as he ran his thumbs slightly higher up beneath her heavy tits, just below where he knew her nipples were even though he couldn’t feel them through her bra.</p>
<p>A soft moan escaped her throat as she pressed into his hands. “T-touching me,” she breathed, her lips open around her shallow inhales.</p>
<p>“Touchin’ ya,” he smirked against her neck before pressing his lips to her skin again. “I do love touchin’ ya, sweetheart,” he murmured, gently sucking her skin between his teeth as she moaned on an exhale, her hands moving to his hair, fingers twisting at the nape of his neck, one thumb rubbing over the shaved hair. He swallowed a groan at the sensation, could feel every follicle moving under the heel of her hand, makin’ him fuckin’ dizzy. “Fuck, Bobby. Do that again,” he gasped, his hands more fully grabbing her tits, rubbing at her nipples as she brought her left hand down from the top of his head back to his temple, her entire palm running slow—agonizingly slow—over the shaved hair, sending tingles straight down his core to his balls, his cock stiffening the rest of the way as he pressed his hips firm against her. He groaned against her neck, nuzzling against her jaw as he let her sweet scent fill him, a light musk from being out and about at work all day, not yet showered. Drove him fuckin’ wild, fuckin’ needed her.</p>
<p>She turned her head slightly and Tora couldn’t hold back anymore as he crushed his lips to hers. She met his movements with an open mouth, her tongue hard against his as she whimpered, one of his hands running back around her shoulders so that his arm enveloped her the way he knew she loved, the other moving to untuck her shirt from her skirt, sliding his fingers up along her bare waist where her skin rolled softly along the edge of the skirt. Fuck, he just wanted to eat her up. <em>Twenty-five</em>, goddamn, where’d the time even gone?</p>
<p>“Tora,” she breathed, clutching at his head as he moved his lips back down her jaw, his teeth nipping along her bone as he nosed his way back up to her ear.</p>
<p>“Wanna eat ya, Bobby,” he groaned, as he slid the hand under her shirt around to the back of the skirt, scrabbling at the zipper as she nodded against him, one of her hands dropping around her back to help pull the closure down, before he quickly crouched down, groaning at the feel of Bobby’s hands back in his hair as he fisted the material on either side of her thighs and shucked the skirt down her legs. When it was off, he ran his thumbs over the thin straps of the underwear around her hips, fingers dipping under the material as he looked up at her, meeting her heated gaze as she pushed the fingers of one of her hands through his hair, his head pulling back, chin angling further up toward her at the pressure. Fuck, he loved it when she was rougher, firm. He liked being in control, but when she got all dominant on him…his cock strained against his pants, needed her touch. To be fuckin’ handled, shit. Tora breathed her name, his cock aching in his jeans—so fuckin’ tight, he needed to get them off or get it out, one or the other, didn’t matter. But he knew she liked undressin’ him, so he’d need to wait. It was her birthday, he could fuckin’ wait.</p>
<p>“Take ya shirt off,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her thigh as he held her gaze, his tongue pushing past his teeth, hot on her skin as he watched her bite her lip at the sensation. Fuck yeah, he knew what his Bobby liked. Was gonna make her come real fuckin’ good to ring in the big year. He watched as she quickly tore the shirt up and over her head, one of her braids catching on the neckline, strands pulling loose from the twist. Fuckin’ beautiful. “Ya know what I want, Bobby,” he said lowly, turning his head to her other thigh and pressing two open-mouthed kisses to the thin skin as he watched a blush creep up her chest. Even after four years together, her skin still flushed when she was turned on, and he knew exactly how far down that blush spread. Could imagine what her lips looked like all swollen and pink, ready for him. He drew his hands up the sides of her thighs, back around to cup her ass before moving his right hand to swipe his thumb over her mound. Could already hear her lips kissing together with her wetness.</p>
<p>He inhaled sharply, slipping his thumb beneath the underwear and across her folds as she removed her bra, her tits bouncin’ free above him as he sucked in another breath at the sight. Holy fuck, he never tired of seein’ her naked. His hand gripped her ass tighter as he murmured up at her, “touch ‘em, Bobby.”</p>
<p>She smirked down at him as she slowly, purposefully drew her lower lip between her teeth, knowin’ full well what that fuckin’ did to him. A low growl rumbled up his chest as he brought his mouth to her mound, the flat of his tongue pressing against her clit through the cotton underwear as he dragged his thumb through her folds, slicking himself in her wetness as she shifted one of her feet further outwards, spreading herself for him as he moaned against her. She gasped, her right hand rolling her nipple as her left began rubbing back and forth over the shaved side of his head, his cock jumpin’ against his fly. Tora panted around his tongue, still pressed against her, as he slipped a finger inside her. He pulled his mouth away from her, as he used his left hand to pull aside the fabric, watching as she let her head fall back, her chest rising and falling faster as the blush deepened. “Toraaaa,” she moaned, and he smirked, knowing what she wanted, what she needed. But first, he had to get better access, needed her legs wider so he could actually fuckin’ fit, wouldn’t be as good for her if he wasn’t comfortable.</p>
<p>He pumped in and out of her a couple more times before he pressed a kiss to the swell of her belly, hooking his fingers along the top of the garment and pulling it down the curves of her legs. He pressed his nose to her mound as he drew the cotton down to her ankles, running his tongue out along her folds as he inhaled her. Fuck, her scent <em>did </em>things to him, felt his core tighten reflexively. “Hold tight, Bobby,” he murmured, moving both his hands around her waist as he quickly stood, lifting her up against his torso. Felt her legs wrapping around him, her lips crashing down against his, hot and insistent as she panted. She twisted her fingers in his hair, pulling back toward his bun as she angled his head so that she had access to the undercut, pressing kisses up along his jaw and nuzzling her nose against the short hair as he walked them to the bedroom. He sat back on the bed and kissed her throat as she shifted her legs to straddle his lap, his hands rubbing circles along her ass, one finger dipping between her cheeks, skimming over her back entrance once every couple seconds, groaning as her hips rocked against him. Felt her tits hot against his chest, so fuckin’ soft and full, her nipples tight as they brushed his skin. He dipped his head to flick his tongue along her collarbone just as she ran her palm over the side of his head again, his balls drawing up tight to his body at the feel of her.</p>
<p>He panted against her skin for a moment as she tugged the back of his bun lightly before he murmured, “still up for that test drive, Bobby?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm having arguably way too much fun with this "one-shot," so much so that now it's gonna be 5 chapters lol</p>
<p>hmu on IG, I love talking to this wonderful community!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Test drive</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Poppy and Tora take the new do for a spin.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>That undercut is 🔥🔥🔥🔥*inserts Change My Mind meme* except you can't cause it's 🥵🥵🥵</p><p>NSFW </p><p>As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 4: Test drive</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>He felt her nod against him, and then he was lying backwards onto the bed, his hands around her ass, the backs of her thighs, encouraging her to slide up the length of his body. Could feel her core hot, so fuckin’ wet as she slicked against his abs, his chest, his neck until she lifted up on her knees, poised above his face, her gaze hot on his as he licked his lips, smacking her ass once before rubbing his palm over the skin. She moaned loudly and he repeated the move on her other side, hands rubbing open circles on her skin, her flesh soft, yielding under his touch. He nodded at her once, “sit down, Bobby.”</p><p>Her mouth opened around a smile as she laughed softly at his command—knew she liked it though, bein’ told what to do, at least in the bedroom. She dropped her hands to the sides of his forehead as she slowly lowered herself onto his face. Tora snaked one of his hands up between them, stroking the dip of skin at the crease of her hip as he licked up through her folds with the flat of his tongue, once, twice, until her fingers tightened along the sides of his head. He watched her through the gap between her tits as she swallowed, her throat rippling with shadows from the dim glow of the lamp in the corner of the room as he brought his other hand up to cup her tit, catching her nipple soft between his middle and ring fingers, squeezing. She bucked her hips against his face as he dipped lower, running his nose along her folds, pressing up against her clit as he pushed his tongue inside her, felt her walls clamping around him, fuck. His cock pushed at his pants again, fuckin’ insistent—knowin’ what that felt like when he was buried inside her. Her thighs shuddered around his ears, calves pressing against his shoulders where she splayed around his broad form. He opened his mouth wider, his chin rubbing up against the swell of her cheeks as he curled inside her, his tongue easily finding the ridged flesh he was searching for. He smiled against her, tapping the spot once, light, and she responded immediately, her pelvis rocking hard against his nose, grinding herself against him in slow circles as his other hand stroked up from the back of her thigh to palm her ass, squeezing her flesh and rubbing her with his thumb.</p><p>“Toraaaaaa,” she breathed, running her hands over his forehead, her own palms pressing against his brow as she thumbed at his hairline, holding his head securely against her core. She let out a soft whine he could just faintly hear as her thighs gapped around his ears with each of her rocks. “Moooore, please,” she gasped as he tapped the ridged flesh again, firmer this time, before uncurling his tongue again, laughing softly as she groaned in frustration. “To-ra,” she panted, grinding down against him harder, her fingers twisting up into his long hair, as she tugged. He moaned against her, her thighs shuddering at the vibration as he moved his head side to side slightly, shifting his nose over her clit until he could feel the low hum in her chest against his hand. He curled his tongue once more, stroking the ridged flesh inside her slowly, and she gasped his name. Fuck, he loved watchin’ her, hearin’ her, fuckin’ feelin’ her come undone against his mouth, under his hands. No one else saw her like this, just for him—he loved that she did the same to him. His bare skin on hers, her body moving against his. “Again, again,” she moaned, rocking against him, could feel the nub of her clit slicking against his nose, a mix of her wetness and his saliva making her movement slippery, frictionless. When he uncurled his tongue again, thickening it inside her, her moan turned into a groan—nearly a fuckin’ growl as her fingers ran along the shaved side of his head, sending hot sparks straight to his cock. “To-ra,” she breathed, “it’s. My. Birth-day,” she panted, her fingers tightening and loosening against his scalp, her nails fuckin’ electric in the roots of his hair. He smiled at her words—had to admit she had a fuckin’ point. Couldn’t resist teasin’ her though, drivin’ her wild. He moved his hand further around her ass, pulling her down forcefully against his face as he curled his tongue again, stroking the ridged flesh in earnest as she moaned loud, the sound of her voice pushing against the walls of the room—he would’ve laughed if he could, his torso convulsing slightly with the force of his stifled laughter unable to go anywhere, his tongue buried deep inside her, chin pressing against her ass, could barely breathe but he didn’t fuckin’ care. Was so goddamned hard, needed her, wanted to feel her come on his face, could feel her juices flowin’ as he brought her closer and closer to the edge. When he thought she was about to tumble over, her breathing coming in short gasps as she started to shake over him, he pushed his thumb against her back entrance, brushing lightly as she let out a long “haaaaaaaaaaah,” before he pushed the tip of his finger inside her. A moment later, she lost control of her movements, her rocking becoming jerky against his nose until she was just shaking, his tongue pressing firmly against the spot inside her, groaning around a smile as he felt her pulse around him, her sweet, musky taste filling his senses as she stilled on him, her fingers tightly wound up in his hair. As her legs loosed from around his ears, he moved his hands to stroke up and down her thighs, her skin, hot to the touch. A couple seconds later she lifted herself off of him, tumbling onto the pillows beside him as she curled her body around his head, her lips pressing to the sweat along his hairline.</p><p>She pulled away from him, reaching for one of the pillows and removing the cotton case around it before she brought the material to his face, gently swiping at the wetness around his nose, his mouth, even his cheeks. He smiled at her, cracking his jaw a couple times. He met her eyes as she smirked at him.</p><p>“So whaddaya think, Bobby,” he murmured, bringing his hand up to circle her wrist, stilling her movements on his face. “Ya wanna buy it?”</p><p>She laughed, moving her hand from his face and down to his chest, his fingers still wrapped light around her arm as she leaned slowly over him, letting her tits brush against his chest, her nipples still tight, the sweat of their bodies cooling. He felt her skin raise in goosebumps as she kissed him, her mouth open and hot on his, slow. Lazy in her movements, drunk on her orgasm. “Oh, it’s already mine.”</p><p><em>Pfft, </em>well, shit. She wasn’t wrong. He laughed against her mouth before she swirled her tongue against his, her hands moving to unbutton his jeans. Fuck, maybe she’d—Tora groaned as he felt her hand wrap around his cock, her palm nowhere big enough to hold all of him, but her fingers spread wide as she pumped him under his waistband, his breath shuddering against her lips before she moved her mouth to his neck, teasing his skin with her teeth. Tora brought his hands to her hips, stroking up and down her bare back before suddenly she was pulling away from him, standing up from the bed. His eyes flew open as he watched her back away from him. “Take your pants off.”</p><p>Tora bit back a groan at the heat in her gaze—he’d thought for a second that she wanted to stop, was ready for dinner, but fuck, from the way she was lookin’ at him…he quickly sat up on the bed, standing to his full height as he shucked his jeans down his legs, his cock bobbing free. Fuckin’ finally. He reached toward her and, as her hands came up to rest on his chest, he scooped her up again, turning as she kissed him, her fingers in his hair as he stepped back to the bed, laying her down gently. With her elbows and heels digging into the blankets, she pushed herself backwards toward the pillows as Tora crawled up to her, sinking down onto the bed, his shoulders pressing into the backs of her thighs as he dragged his tongue between her folds. Poppy moaned, letting her head fall back onto the pillows, exposing her throat in a delicate arch as her lips parted around the sound that worked its way past her teeth.</p><p>Tora swirled his tongue in a wide circle around her clit, scissoring two fingers along the wetness of her inner lips, coating himself in her before he slipped his fingers inside. She let out a shaky exhale as her walls flexed around him, so fuckin’ warm and tight—could feel his mouth fuckin’ salivating at the thought that he’d be inside her in just a few minutes. Her thighs clamped around his ears for a moment as he fingered her before he was pushing his way up her torso—couldn’t wait any longer—her legs spreading further, falling to either side of his body as he pressed open-mouthed kisses up her belly, along her chest, his tongue circling her nipple. Poppy ran her hands up the sides of his head and Tora groaned again at the sensation of the short hairs moving against her palm. A moment later, her fingers had removed the strawberry tie, his bun spilling down his neck, touching his shoulders as she slipped the elastic around her wrist—knew to keep it safe for him. They’d lost it in the blankets a handful of times, each instance causing Tora’s chest to seize, the anxiety like a sudden wave he couldn’t explain, couldn’t dodge out from under. And Bobby was always there to hold him until he came back to himself enough for them to strip the bed, the bright red tie never far.</p><p>Tora kissed his way up her throat, gently sucking at her skin, nibbling along her jaw until he’d reached her mouth, his hand stretching down between their bodies to line himself up with her entrance as she hooked her feet around his lower back, pulling him down into her on a sigh against his lips. He stilled for a moment inside her, always loving this first moment, of being completely buried inside her, no barriers between them, feeling every fold of her slick passage heated around his cock, squeezing him as she tightened her muscles the way she knew he fuckin’ loved. And then she was pulling him closer, encouraging him to move, “fuckin’ impatient, Bobby,” he laughed softly, beginning to rock up into her as she moaned.</p><p>“S’my…birth-day,” she panted as he pressed up onto his elbows, lifting his torso from hers and dipping his head to suck the skin of her throat again, letting his tongue fall sloppy against the dip above her collarbone. “Mmmm,” she groaned, pressing her tits up into him, arching her back away from the bed as her hands drew down to his shoulders, squeezing the curves of his muscles as she bit her lip around another moan. He laughed softly against her neck, lifting his head to press his lips to her chin where it was raised in the air, her head pressed back against the pillows. He grazed his teeth over it, feeling her skin pull under him into a smile, watched as she closed her eyes, her brow furrowing slightly as her breathing grew ragged. Tora dipped a hand down between their bodies, resting a finger on either side of her clit, applying pressure and moving just slightly up and down with each of his thrusts. Could feel his balls drawing up, as she squeezed him over and over.</p><p>“Shit, Bobby,” he gasped against her neck, her fingers of her left hand drawing up to the side of his head where she ran them back and forth slowly over the shaved area. Tora felt his eyes roll back in his head, could feel the tension coiling in his groin as he groaned her name. “Gonna make me come, Bob,” he breathed, inhaling sharply as she grazed his scalp with her nails.</p><p>“Harder,” she breathed, her feet tightening around him as she dragged him into her center, the hand on her shoulder coming down between their bodies to take over for his hand as he’d stilled on her, trying to focus on not coming. Not coming, not yet. “Please…To-ra…hard…” she broke off on a low moan as he pulled up onto his elbows, gripping the tops of her shoulders to keep her from moving up the bed. A moment later, he felt her come undone, her legs shaking as the frantic circling of her wrist stilled, her breath catching in her throat as she arched into him. Tora squeezed his eyes shut over his own release, pushing once more into her, his cock pulsing inside her as her walls spasmed around him with wet heat.</p><p>They panted, open-mouthed against each other, Tora breathing in each of her exhales as he rested his forehead against hers, could feel the sheen of sweat forming where their skin pressed together. “I fuckin’ love ya, Bobby,” he breathed, pressing his lips to hers softly, feeling her smile. “Happy birthday.” She kissed him, circling his neck with her arms as he slowly softened inside her, some of his cum leaking out around them, pooling onto the blanket. Didn’t fuckin’ care—could toss it in the laundry when the first load was done.</p><p>She rolled her head back against the pillows to smile at him, meeting his gaze, her eyes soft, satiated—for now. Fuck, he definitely planned on goin’ again later. She still hadn’t showered, and he knew she liked to before bed. Maybe she’d let him join. He bit his lip around a smile at the thought. “So what brought this on?” she asked softly, her palm stroking the side of his head, almost no pressure at all—so fuckin’ gentle, like he was her fuckin’ <em>lamb’s-ear</em>. <em>Pfft.</em> Bobby and her plants.</p><p>“Ya don’t recognize it?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at her. Shit, she’d been practically fuckin’ droolin’ at the TV with Quince the other night—did she really not remember? He rolled off of her, quickly grabbing the pillowcase and pressing it between her legs, catching the cum that leaked from her. He glanced up as she smiled down at him, her eyes warm as she watched him move to wipe himself off.</p><p>A moment later, she smiled knowingly. “The guy from The Bachelor, right?” She smirked, “I like it a lot better on you.”</p><p>He laughed, couldn’t help the warmth that swelled in his chest, knowing she liked it. Hadn’t been a mistake. Would take for fuckin’ ever to grow out, but it was fuckin’ worth it.</p><p>“I mean, I love you no matter what you do with your hair. Plus,” she said, sitting up and stretching her hands over her head, her hair spilling down her back, the strawberry on her wrist catching the soft light of the lamp, “you’re a stud no matter what, you thug,” she smirked at him over her shoulder as he rolled his eyes at her, her palm falling to the tattoo on his leg, “my tiger.”</p><p>The smile relaxed on his lips as he gazed at her, his eyes roaming her face. “Always, Bobby.” She glanced down, nodding her head softly as she stood, motioning for Tora to come closer until he sat at the edge of the bed, one leg on either side of her body as his palms came up to rest on her hips, thumbs stroking her skin softly as he pressed a kiss to her chest. She slipped the strawberry tie from her wrist, running her fingers through his hair and pulling it all up into a bun on top of his head.</p><p>“There,” she said, bringing her hands to his cheeks and kissing his forehead above the slit in his eyebrow. “Hottie,” she murmured, smirking as he rolled his eyes, letting his mouth fall open. “I’m hungry and it smells amazing out there. Very curious what you made…should we go eat?”</p><p>“Yeah, Bobby,” he said, watching as she slipped into the short robe she liked to wear after baths and sex, the loose fabric all silvery in the soft glow of the lamp. “Just gonna pull somethin’ on, I’ll be right there,” he smiled at her as she turned to look at him, pausing with one hand on the door.</p><p>She looked him up and down, eyes resting first on his cock where it lay on his thigh and then on the undercut. “Or not,” she smirked, “think the floor might be a little cold—mind if I sit in your lap while we eat?”</p><p>His brows shot up, mouth falling open—fuck, he loved it when they did this. “Bobby, if I ever say no to that…”</p><p>She laughed, as she strolled out the door, “I know, I know.”</p><p>Tora shook his head, quickly standing from the bed as he picked up the pillowcase, moving to toss it in the hamper before striding over to the chest of drawers against the wall. He opened the top drawer, fingers scrabbling at the back for the box of condoms, his hand closing around it a moment later and pulling it from the depths of the silky materials, a pair of her undies catching on the corner of the box. He reached in, extracting one of the last two gold packets as he heard his phone buzz from the pocket of his jeans. He sighed—should probably tell Quince she liked it. Or—nah, he thought. Could get weird fast. He should thank him at least, though. Bobby’d been tellin’ him to <em>practice gratitude</em> lately. He’d do it for her. Tora bent, fishing the phone from his pocket and swiping up on the screen, immediately rolling his eyes and tossing it onto the bed. No fuckin’ way.</p><p>@Quince: Okay, don’t kill me.<br/>
@Quince: I snuck a pic as you were leaving. Sent it to Lao, couldn’t resist.<br/>
@Quince: Sue me 🙄</p><p>@Quince: Anyway, how do you feel about nudity?</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And now it's 5 parts lmao I can't 😂😂</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Booty robe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hell yeah, he thought. Fuckin’ cake sex.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I’ve got another fluffy chapter in the works lol </p>
<p>This one’s NSFW but also fluffy 😉🥵</p>
<p>As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon--she's got a new tier, too! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 5: Booty robe</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tora padded out into the kitchen, the foil teeth of the condom pressing into his closed fist, shaking his head. Fuckin’ Quince, always takin’ shit too fuckin’ far. He took a deep breath, pushing the thought from his mind—it was Bobby’s birthday. She’d liked the hair, the eyebrow. Wanted to sit on his fuckin’ lap while they ate dinner, and he knew what the fuck that meant. Felt his cock twitchin’ already at the thought. Shit, he loved it when she wanted to do this—had nearly fuckin’ lost his mind the first time she’d suggested it. Almost choked on the fuckin’ riceball she’d made him, as if he needed butterin’ up, <em>pfft</em>. He’d been so goddamn confused why she had placed the condom down on the table beside his plate, the lube. <em>Fuck, the lube</em>. Tora quickly turned back to the bedroom and ducked down to the nightstand, scooping up the purple tube and turning back to the kitchen, his eyes glued to her—the robe tied loose around her waist, clinging to her hips as she filled up a glass from the tap.</p>
<p>She’d started on the pill a couple years ago and they hadn’t looked back, much to Tora’s immediate and unending fuckin’ excitement. He’d made it well known from practically the very beginning of their relationship that he didn’t give a shit about her flow—if anything it made the sex that much better—she was always hornier, and it was a guarantee of her bein’ wet no matter the foreplay. So, once they’d made the move to the pill, there’d really been no need for the stupid fuckin’ condoms anymore. Except for this. Ever since that night, her in his lap on the pillow at the dinner table—fuck, he couldn’t help gettin’ fuckin’ excited at the thought of getting to use one of the little packets again. Tora leaned against the fridge as he watched her fill a second glass with water, her ass practically hangin’ out of the skimpy little robe. He felt his lips part as she turned to face him, her tits heavy under the silk, nipples still hard, pointing out at him. Tora smirked as she tilted her head. “What?”</p>
<p>“Ya look like ya just had a good fuck, Bobby,” he murmured, tugging at the braid that had come loose when she’d first removed her shirt, the hair all teased up around her head now, her cheeks still flushed a light pink.</p>
<p>“Mmm, wonder why,” she smirked up at him, opening her arms and holding the water out to the sides of his torso as he stepped up close to her, bending down as he wrapped his arms around her, his free hand spreading over her ass as he inhaled against her neck.</p>
<p>“Teasin’ me with ya fuckin’ booty robe,” he murmured, squeezing her once as she laughed against him before he stood back up, running his hand up and down her side before resting on the swell of her hips. He held her gaze for a moment—how the fuck had he gotten so lucky? “‘Kay, sweetheart,” he said, slipping the lube and the condom into the pocket of her robe before stepping out from around her and padding over to the counter where the ramen bowls sat beneath the plates he’d laid on top of them, “go sit down and close ya eyes,” he said, turning to look at her and waiting until she’d left the room. “No peekin’ either, Bobby,” he called as she reached the table, bending over to put the waters down.</p>
<p>His breath caught in his throat as she looked back over her shoulder at him, clearly fuckin’ aware of the view she was givin’ him, a little fuckin’ smirk on her face, “alright, alright.”</p>
<p>“That’s a peek,” he said, pointing his finger at her until she rolled her eyes turning her head back around and sitting down at the table. He watched as she raised her hands in the air, a gesture of surrender.</p>
<p>“Not looking, not looking,” she called.</p>
<p>“Hands over ya eyes, Bobby.” He listened to her laugh as he removed the plates from the bowls, condensation running off each one before he stacked them on the counter. The ramen was still warm. Definitely not hot the way he’d wanted but, shit. Fuckin’ worth it. Hoped she thought so, too. Tora carefully picked up the bowls, walking over to the table and setting them down in front of her, crouching behind her so that his quads opened around her waist, leaning forward slightly so that his stiffening cock pressed into her back as he pulled one of her braids aside, tugging gently until she tilted her head, hands still held over her eyes as she granted him access to her neck. He nosed against the back of her ear, his tongue flicking against the skin along her hairline, sweet like her shampoo, as she hummed. Inhaling deeply, he let the scent of her fill his lungs before exhaling hot against her shoulder. Tora settled himself onto his knees, legs still spread wide around where she sat on the pillow, angling his hips so that his cock pressed against the top of her ass. “How’s the floor, sweetheart? Ya cold?” he murmured, dragging his lips across her shoulder and biting the silky collar of her robe between his teeth, gently pulling it until he’d exposed the top of her arm.</p>
<p>She shivered between his legs and his cock jumped as he smiled against her skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses from her neck to her arm and then back. “Mmm,” she hummed.</p>
<p>“Where d’ya want me, sweetheart,” he dipped one hand into the pocket of her robe, withdrawing the condom, the lube and placing them on the table before bringing his fingers to the inside of her thigh just beneath the place where the fabric pooled around her hips. He reached his other hand up and around her waist, cupping her breast through the silk before sliding his palm across her chest, letting his fingers dip beneath the fabric. As he palmed her tit, rolling her nipple with his thumb, she moaned, pressing back against him, rubbing her ass against his cock. Tora swallowed, “sweet <em>fuck</em>, Bobby.”</p>
<p>She breathed in, her chest rising into his hand, her other tit pressing against his forearm, “floor’s cold, tiger,” she sighed.</p>
<p>Tora’s chest swelled as he inhaled sharply at her nickname for him. <em>Her</em> fuckin’ tiger. In one fluid motion, he’d lifted her, slipping her into his lap as he bent his legs, heels digging into the floor in front of the pillow as she adjusted herself on top of him, leaning forward slightly as she rubbed the crack of her ass against his cock. Tora let his head fall back, his hands squeezing the soft undersides of her thighs, the swell of her ass beneath the robe. “Shit, Bobby, we should take this off,” he said as she reached behind her back to pass him the condom and the lube. “S’gonna get all wet.”</p>
<p>“Mmm,” she murmured, “something sure is.” He huffed a laugh, kissing the back of her neck as she ground down against him. “Well, should we eat, then?” she asked, and Tora felt his mouth fall open. “Can I open my eyes yet?”</p>
<p>“Sweetheart, ya can’t be serious,” he groaned, knowing she very well could be. A hungry fuckin’ hamster.</p>
<p>“It’s my birthday, Tora,” she said. He could hear the fuckin’ smile on her voice—she knew exactly what the fuck she was doin’. He bit back a groan, turning his face to the ceiling for a moment as he scrunched up his face, his hands stilling on her thighs. “And you cooked for me.”</p>
<p>“And I cooked for ya,” he repeated softly, dejectedly. Fuck. Why the hell had he cooked for her? Should’ve just done the haircut and the cake. Cakes got her hot for him—they’d had plenty of cake sex. Shit. No way they could eat ramen and fuck at the same time—what the hell had he been thinkin’? He started to lower his legs but stopped abruptly as her hands fell to the tops of his thighs, grasping around the backs of his knees and pulling him back up.</p>
<p>“I want to eat like this.”</p>
<p>He laughed, letting his head fall against her back between her shoulder blades. “‘Kay, Bobby. I’ll be ya chair,” he muttered against the robe. “Only cause it’s ya birthday, though.”</p>
<p>She laughed softly, her back shaking against his face as he pressed a kiss to her spine. “You know what I think?”</p>
<p>He smiled, “oh yeah, Bobby? Tell me, what d’ya think.”</p>
<p>“I think you’d gladly be my chair any day of the year.” He nodded his head against her, sighing. She was fuckin’ right and they both knew it. <em>Ya goddamn sucker</em>. “Can I open my eyes?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, Bobby.”</p>
<p>He heard her gasp a moment later, her hands tightening around his knees. “Oh, Tora, you made me ramen?” She turned to look at him over her shoulder, fuckin’ beaming. He reached a hand up and tugged on her braid before leaning up against her, wrapping his arms around her torso and resting his chin on her shoulder as she held the bowl, taking a sip and humming. “Oh my—Tora, it’s so good,” she murmured, quickly taking another sip.</p>
<p>He turned his head slightly, pressing a kiss to her jaw. “Baked ya a cake, too.” Tora smiled as he heard her mouth fall open.</p>
<p>“You what?”</p>
<p>“Made ya a cake, sweetheart. Brown butter and everythin’.” She shifted in his lap to turn more fully and he groaned at the friction, stilling his hips that’d bucked up reflexively into her ass.</p>
<p>“Like, not from the store? When? How?”</p>
<p>“Bobby, ya killin’ me, sweetheart,” he groaned again, squeezing his eyes shut as she twisted in his lap, trying to see his face.</p>
<p>As he blinked open again, he caught a gleam in her eye—something like heat—just before she rocked forward slowly and then back, her ass sliding against his cock. He swallowed thickly as his lips parted around a heavy exhale—was pretty fuckin’ sure he was readin’ her right, that it was back on. <em>Hell yeah, fuckin’ cake sex</em>. Tora brought his hands to her hips, guiding her as she rocked against him again before he slipped his hands around her front, fingers catching in the tie around her waist, making quick work of the knot as he panted softly, her ass pressing into him. The robe fell open and Tora slid his palms down her front, shifting his heels slightly wider on the floor, spreading her for him as his hand cupped her mound. Poppy’s head fell back against his shoulder, panting softly as two of his fingers stroked up and down her outer lips until he could hear the wet sounds of her inner lips folding up around her entrance. “Fuck, Bobby,” he murmured, his finger dipping inside her to his first knuckle before pulling out to circle her clit, stroking up through her folds as she moaned his name. “Ya ready for round three, sweetheart?”</p>
<p>She nodded against his shoulder, her cheek falling to press against his before he turned to kiss her, his lips hot on hers as he inserted a finger inside her again. Felt her walls clench around him and he huffed against her neck, pulling away from her mouth. “Fuck, sweetheart. Ya keep doin’ that and I won’t last long at all.”</p>
<p>“Well, we don’t want the ramen to get cold,” she murmured, squeezing him again.</p>
<p>“Ya want a quickie, Bobby?” he leaned back slightly, his eyebrows raised, still panting as he tried to slow his breathing. “On ya birthday?”</p>
<p>“Tora, cake,” she said, rocking again back into him as she brought her hand up to skim against the side of his head, her palm rubbing the short hair. Fuck, he was down for whatever she wanted, he thought, sparks flyin’ from his scalp straight to his balls. Tora quickly moved his hands, leaning to the side to grab the condom and tearing it open. “Scoot up, Bob,” he smacked her ass lightly as she braced herself with her hands on his knees, hovering over his crotch as he quickly unrolled the condom, fingers spreading out around his base before gripping himself again with one hand, the other opening the lube and squirting some onto his cock. Shit, he should’ve warmed it beforehand, he realized. He slicked it up and down his length, swallowing as he squirted some more onto his fingers, reaching down between her ass cheeks, “a little cold, sweetheart,” he said as he rubbed his fingers over her back entrance, massaging the skin of her ass to the sound of her breathing growing heavier.</p>
<p>“Tora, please,” she breathed as he pressed a kiss to the back of her neck, tongue pressing against her as he drew her skin between his teeth.</p>
<p>“I gotcha, sweetheart,” he murmured, moving one of his hands to cup the round of her ass, the other gripping the base of his cock as he guided her backwards, lowering her against the tip, breathing hot on her shoulder, his mouth open against her skin. “Ya lead, Bobby,” he grunted, fighting the urge to thrust up into her, knew she needed time to adjust to his size. A moment later, she was sinking down onto him, her breath catching in her throat as his hands ran up and down the backs of her thighs, lube smearing on her skin, but fuck, they could clean later. His eyes rolled back in his head as he focused on the feel of her. “Lemme know…if ya need…more lube,” he panted against her skin, his teeth resting lightly on her shoulder. Her ass was always so goddamn tight, practically suckin’ him in. He moved a hand down between them to grip his base again, making sure the condom was still in place as she began to move against him, her hands pressing against his knees as she rose up slowly, sinking back down.</p>
<p>“M’good,” she breathed. She rocked up again, could feel her inner thighs rubbing against the outsides of his quads, his hairs bristling at the friction. “Touch me, Tora,” one of her hands snaked back around her to grab the hand on her ass.</p>
<p>Tora inhaled sharply at her words, her insistence—trying desperately to focus on not comin’ just yet. She wanted it quick but, shit, not <em>that</em> quick. Sweet fuck, though, she was like a fuckin’ vacuum of wet heat. He wrapped his arms around her moving his hands between her legs, running his fingers through her folds as she moaned at the new touch. Was a good thing she was so tiny, that he was so much bigger than her so he could reach, he thought as he slowly began rubbing two fingers beside her clit, every once in a while, his thumb dipping down to brush directly against her. Her breathing grew ragged as her thighs shuddered, beginning to struggle to keep the steady rhythm of her bobbin’ up and down his cock. Tora ran his other hand between her folds again, already wetter, fuckin’ drippin’ as he nudged her entrance, Bobby pantin’, her chest heaving as he inserted his middle finger, holding his hand still so that each time she rose up, his finger slid out of her, same as his cock at her back entrance. As she rose up again, he slipped another finger inside her.</p>
<p>“Ooooh, Tora-Tora-Tora,” she breathed, gasping as her legs gave out, unable to keep a rhythm at all.</p>
<p>“Ya want me—” he took a breath through his nose—the sound of the lube, the feel of her sheathed around his cock, his fingers—almost too much, “want me to…take over. Sweetheart,” he panted again, couldn’t help his mouth fallin’ open as she moaned again, crying out in their small living space, her voice landing on the rugs that covered the wood floors, the soft fluffy ones from Ikea she’d insisted on buying to help dampen the sounds of their lovemaking after the first time Tora’d mentioned how much he loved how loud she could be. Remembered her blush as she’d chucked them into the cart he’d been pushing behind her, covering them with plants from the garden section as though anyone passing by would know exactly the reason they were buying them—sweet fuck, he loved her.</p>
<p>“Mmmm,” she whimpered. Tora quickly moved the hand on her clit to circle her wrist, pulling her arm down between her legs so she could take over the rubbing, waited until he could feel her fingers moving frantic against the palm of his other hand before he moved to grip the underside of her ass. His arm worked in tandem with the shallow thrusts of his hips as he felt her begin to shake against him, her walls tightening, clenching around his finger each time he sank her back onto him, a moan starting low in her chest, creeping up her throat until she was practically wailing his name. Suddenly, she threw her right arm back, clutching at the side of his head, her fingertips running over the shaved hair, could feel himself losin’ it—the little control he had left slipping away from him. The tension in his balls spilled over, his cum shooting out into the condom as he continued to rock into her—she was so close, could feel how fuckin’ close to the edge she was, the tension in her legs ready to fuckin’ snap. And then she did, not a moment later, her body shuddering as he watched the blush down her back deepen in color around the dip of her spine, a light sheen of sweat on both their bodies.  </p>
<p>Tora breathed hard through his mouth, leaning back and rubbing his thumbs along the dimples above her ass where little pools of sweat had collected. “Ya good, Bobby?” he panted, “I didn’t hurt ya?”</p>
<p>He could hear her smile, a slow laugh through her nose, lazy, sated. “Mmmm’good,” she murmured, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his bent leg before rising up on her knees. He quickly moved a hand to grab the base of the condom as she slid off of him, groaning slightly. “Oh,” she sighed, “stiff legs, stiff legs.” He laughed, lowering his own legs and stretching them out around the table in a wide V as she climbed from him. He tilted his head against his shoulder as he leaned back, palms pressed to the floor behind the pillow as he watched her twist, a light pop from her spine as she sighed. She turned to look at him, removing the tie around one of her braids and working her fingers through her hair, smiling as she watched his face before letting her eyes fall down his body.</p>
<p>Tora raised his eyebrows at her as she met his gaze again, “shit, sweetheart. Gonna need a minute.”</p>
<p>She rolled her eyes, huffing lightly. “I didn’t say anything.”</p>
<p>He grinned, sitting up and moving to stand, “sure ya didn’t, Bobby.” She laughed as he padded to the bathroom, carefully wadding the condom up in toilet paper and tossing it in the little bin under the sink before washing his hands. “Oi, Bobby,” he called as he toweled off, “no goin’ in the kitchen.” Not wanting her to see the fuckin’ half-finished cake, Tora quickly grabbed the pajama bottoms he’d left in a pile on the floor beside the shower that morning, pulling them on. As he caught sight of himself in the mirror on the back of the door, he laughed to himself, <em>pfft, what a fuckin’ look.</em> He shook his head on a small smile, eyes roaming his reflection—the eyebrow, the undercut, his long hair pulled up with the strawberry tie, the flannels she’d bought him just the other week printed in tiny T-rexes. She was too fuckin’ cute. He found his eyes again—had noticed in the last couple years how much more he was smilin’, hell, he even had some faint lines around his eyes now. What a lucky son of a bitch he’d turned out to be. As he felt a little wet spot seeping into the material on the crotch from some cum he’d missed, he considered putting on some briefs, shaking his head at his reflection a moment later. Nah, no use if she was still in the mood. “Oi, Bobby, the hell did I say,” he said as he made his way out of the bathroom, not seeing her or the robe at the table. Tora’s breath caught in his chest when he spotted her in the kitchen, <em>shit</em>. She was standing at the counter holding the dish towel, starin’ down at the unfrosted cake on the wire rack. It looked fuckin’ pathetic, sad as shit. Fuck. “Bobby, it’s not—”</p>
<p>Tora cut himself off abruptly as she turned to look at him, her eyes all watery, mouth open, brows pulled up like she was gonna fuckin’ cry. “Shit, sweetheart,” he murmured, striding over to pull her to his chest, his arms circling her shoulders over the silky material of the robe, hands slipping down to hug her waist. “S’not done, Bobby. Know it looks fucked, but—”</p>
<p>“Oh, Tora,” she breathed, pressing her hands to his back as she leaned her chin against his chest, staring up at him as a tear escaped from the corner of her eye, “no. I love it.”</p>
<p>He brought a hand up to her face, brushing the tear as it trickled toward her hairline, his eyebrows pulling together, “yeah?”</p>
<p>“Absolutely,” she beamed, her hands tightening around him, “can we eat it?”</p>
<p>“Sweetheart, s’not done,” he murmured again, rubbing his hand up and down her back.</p>
<p>“What else is there to do?” Shit, she really wanted it that bad?</p>
<p>He nodded back toward the fridge. “Got some cream and fruit for the top,” he said, looking back at her as she smiled, pulling herself from his arms as she stepped over toward the fridge.</p>
<p>“What kind of fruit?” she asked, a gleam in her eye as she glanced back at him, her fingers around the fridge handle.</p>
<p>He tilted his head, folding his arms as he leaned against the counter, smirking at her. “Take a wild guess, sweetheart.”</p>
<p>She grinned wide, pulling the door open before turning to smile at him, ducking inside and pulling out the bowl of the cream, the carton of strawberries. “What do you think,” she asked, placing them on the counter beside Tora before leaning around him to slide the wire rack toward her, lining everything up and removing the plastic he’d stretched over the bowl. “Spoons?”</p>
<p>He felt his eyebrows shoot up again, “Bobby, we gotta put it together,” he said, watching as she picked up the strawberries and brought them to sink, shaking the container as she held it under the tap.</p>
<p>“Guess we could use our fingers, too,” she smirked at him as she padded back over to stand beside him, her arm brushing against his as she reached for the dishtowel, folding it and placing the strawberries on top of the cloth.</p>
<p>“Sweetheart,” he frowned as she tore off a piece of cake with her index finger and thumb, pinching it lightly as steam coiled up into the air, her lips pulling together as she blew on it.</p>
<p>“Hmm?” she placed it in her mouth and Tora watched the whites of her eyes flash as she closed her eyes on a moan. <em>Holy</em>— “mmm, Tora,” she murmured, her tongue darting out to lick her lips as she reached to tear off another piece, blowing on it gently before holding it up to his mouth. “Most important f—”</p>
<p>He barked a laugh at the phrase she always liked to say whenever he teased her about her fuckin’ sweet tooth, rolling his eyes as the tension left his shoulders. “Ya like it, Bobby?” he asked before carefully taking the cake from her fingers with his teeth, giving her a look with as much heat as he could muster, desperately wanted her to be in the mood again, but as soon as the cake was in his mouth, he nearly dropped it at how fuckin’ hot it was. Not fuckin’ sexy at all. “Holy shit, Bob,” he said, his jaw dipping open, the cake at the tip of his tongue as his mouth salivated, eyes watering, “s’fuckin’ hot, how the fuck are ya—”</p>
<p>She quickly swiped her finger into the bowl beside her, inserting her finger into his mouth and smiling as the cool cream melted against his tongue, dripping down her finger to her knuckle. On an inhale, Tora brought his hand up to circle her wrist, closing his lips around her fingers as he swirled his tongue around her skin. Poppy smirked at him as she leaned over with her other hand to grab a strawberry, biting off the tip and chewing, watching as Tora finally released her. Had to admit it was fuckin’ good—at least when he was lickin’ it off of her. “I can put the cake together, Bobby,” he said, gesturing toward the ingredients, “don’t have to eat it like this.”</p>
<p>She shook her head, smiling, “it tastes amazing, really outdid yourself.” She blew on another piece before dipping it in cream and biting into it, “plus,” she said, her mouth full, “this way you have to make me another one.”</p>
<p>“<em>Pfft, pfft</em>, sure, Bob. I can do that.” Tora reached over to the strawberries, grabbing one and popping it whole into his mouth as she shook her head softly on a smile.</p>
<p>“Oh,” she said suddenly, as if realizing something. She darted out of the kitchen and, just as Tora was about to call after her, she reappeared, unlocking her phone and turning so that her back was to Tora. He frowned, mouth still full of strawberry, the stem between his teeth as he watched her. <em>The fuck? </em>She held up two of her fingers, and Tora glanced up at the phone—could see himself standing shirtless in his dino pants, the undercut on display as he reached for another strawberry, Bobby in the foreground, smiling at the camera, holding her robe closed, the separate cake components spread out on the counter between them. “Tora, smile. I want to send one of these to Quincey,” she said from behind her teeth, her face still pulled up into a grin as she watched him roll his eyes on the screen. “It’s my birth-day,” she sing-songed and he huffed a laugh, pushing off the counter.</p>
<p>“Yeah, not like I could forget when ya keep remindin’ me, sweetheart.” A moment later, he’d pressed himself against her back, dipping his head down until his cheek rested against hers, smirking at her from the corner of his eye. “Happy birthday, Bobby.”</p>
<p>****</p>
<p>I hope this embed works (fingers crossed!) The incredibly wonderful CopyPastel created beautiful illustrations to go along with this fic! I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!!! Check her out on IG @justcopypastel</p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I really wanna write that scene of them at Ikea lol</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Incentive</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Poppy offers Tora a little incentive to play nice at a joint cooking class.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hahahaha what am I even doing </p>
<p>As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 6: Incentive</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What did you promise me?” Tora felt Poppy squeeze his arm just below his elbow. He sighed, blinking a couple times at the soft glow of the elevator ceiling before angling his head back down to meet Poppy’s gaze in the reflection of the metal doors. He let out a slow exhale through his nose as she squeezed his arm again, her thumb pressing along one of his veins, a pulse point she’d discovered a couple years back that she’d learned real fuckin’ quick helped to calm him whenever his anxiety spiked. Which, if he was bein’ honest, was most of the time they visited his brother. She tilted her head in question, holding his gaze, waiting for some kind of response. Any response. He really didn’t wanna fuckin’ be here. Would so much rather be back at their place, Bobby in his arms, lyin’ between his legs on the couch, her head on his chest watchin’ a stupid fuckin’ movie or maybe that one show he liked about all the dumbasses competin’ in the self-imposed wilderness, diggin’ around in the jungle for little wooden dolls, doin’ stupid fuckin’ puzzles in the sand. Actin’ like they were actually fuckin’ strugglin’ to survive, <em>pfft</em>.</p>
<p>“You said you’d play nice, tiger,” Poppy murmured when he didn’t say anything. She raised her eyebrows at him, a smile playing at her lips at the look on his face—dark, barely concealed annoyance, his jaw clicking. He glanced up at his own reflection and quickly away. Fuck, he’d actually started to kinda like the hairstyle in the week since Quincey had cut it—had especially enjoyed the way that Bobby seemed unable to keep her hands off him, more so than usual, even braidin’ his hair and shit the way that felt nice—but Tora hadn’t really known how fast his hair actually grew and, now it was in a weird stubby phase of overgrowth that he really fuckin’ hated. Looked fuckin’ stupid as shit and his scalp fuckin’ hurt from all the times he subconsciously tugged at it, as though willing it to grow out faster. The eyebrow was less annoying—had mostly grown out. It almost looked natural now, like a scar rather than a fake slit the way Quincey had first done.</p>
<p>“Mhmm,” he nodded, lowering his head to hers as he bent over her shoulder, “and <em>ya</em> said ya’d wear those shoes I like,” he glanced from her gaze down meaningfully at the sneakers she wore before pulling his eyes back to hers in the reflection, “so where does that put us, sweetheart?”</p>
<p>She smirked, laughing through her nose as he pulled his arm from her grip, wrapping it around her shoulders and pulling her close against him, his palm moving to cup her ass. “Oh,” she sighed around a smirk. “I must’ve misunderstood.” The words left her mouth slow like honey, holding his gaze. He felt his lips part—knew she was gonna say some feisty shit, always did. Had known her long enough by now— “see, I thought you meant I should <em>only </em>wear the shoes…” she paused, clearly fuckin’ enjoying herself, watching his mouth fall even further open as he inhaled sharply, “…like…as a reward.”</p>
<p>From his peripheral vision, he saw his eyes blow wide, brows shooting up toward his hairline as he exhaled in a rush. “Sweet fuck, Bobby.”</p>
<p>“Thought you might need some…incentive.”</p>
<p>He huffed a laugh, shoving his free hand in his pocket and readjusting himself, pulling his cock up into the waistband of his briefs. “Goddamn, sweetheart. I’ll play nice, shit. Best fuckin’ behavior,” he muttered as the doors slid open.</p>
<p>“That’s what I like to hear,” she murmured, grabbing the hand on her ass and leading him behind her toward the door of the penthouse. He watched her hips sway, letting his eyes drag up and down her backside, the hair spilling in waves down her shoulders as she turned back to smile at him. Tora closed the distance between them, stepping up to the door and banging one fist on it, holding her gaze as she wrapped his other arm around her, her fingers still joined with his. Could feel her thumb rubbin’ along the outside of his hand. He angled his head up, smiling down at her with an open mouth, pulling one corner of his lips up, purposely displaying a dimple. Tora slipped his hand from her fingers, palming her ass through her skirt, stroking his thumb over the dip between her cheeks. He bit back a groan as he felt her press back into his open hand.</p>
<p>Just as she began to shake her head at him on a smirk, the door opened in a rush. “Heeeey, Big Bro, Poppy,” the slim auburn-haired man quickly pulled open the door, “cameras. Remember?” Ronzo pointed behind them as Tora rolled his eyes. “Just your friendly biweekly reminder that we can <em>see</em> you in the elevator. And in the lobby.” He looked down pointedly as though he could see through Poppy to the other side of her where Tora’s hand rested flush against her ass, his fingers still dipped between her cheeks. Tora leveled a glare at the man who’d gotten cheekier with him in the years after the trial, more comfortable—a little too fuckin’ comfortable—when Tora’d made it known how much of a permanent fixture Poppy had become in his life. Almost like her presence could protect him from a broke fuckin’ leg. Tora clicked his teeth, he liked touchin’ his Bobby, so what? When Ronzo looked back up at Tora, his eyes widened, seemed almost to shrink in on himself.</p>
<p>“Oh, don’t stop on account of us, Tiger,” Tora heard Quincey call from inside the penthouse. “Love the inspo, going to use it in a new scene.” Tora huffed a sigh as Poppy laughed softly. He’d never forget the first time she’d beta read with his brother—had nearly fuckin’ given him a heart attack with how comfortable she was talkin’ sex with the blonde man. Even gave <em>Quince</em> a run for his damn money. Two peas in a fuckin’ pod. Though, Tora had to admit, had his jeans fuckin’ tight by the time they’d left early.</p>
<p>Tora shouldered his way through the door as Ronzo quickly stepped back, “ah, Big Bro, you may wanna—”</p>
<p>As he opened the door wide, stepping into the entry way, Tora felt his mouth drop open, his eyes immediately jumping from Ronzo’s face to the nude portrait that now hung on the wall opposite the entrance where Quincey had once kept a floor-length mirror. At some point well before the trial, still at the beginning of Tora’s relationship with her, Quincey had commissioned Poppy to paint something to fill its place <em>on account of bad memories</em> as his brother’d put it—her abstract canvas of greens, blues, and yellows sat on the floor, propped against the wall, the top of her painting meeting the bottom of the portrait. Tora inhaled sharply as he took it in—a man photographed in black and white, butt-ass fuckin’ naked, his body slicked with oil so that his fuckin’ muscles glinted in the light, one hand cuppin’ his groin, just fuckin’ barely though. But that wasn’t really what got Tora’s attention. It was the fuckin’ face—Quincey had printed out the photo Tora’d taken with Poppy on her birthday, had blown it up, cut his fuckin’ head out, and taped it to the life-sized naked image of the man. There were other pieces of paper taped to the arms, chest, and leg of the photo—pictures of peonies, koi fish, and tigers that Quince, the little shit, had printed out, taking pain-staking care to cut around each design before affixing them to the model’s limbs in a makeshift imitation of his brother. Tora could feel his pulse begin to pound in the vein of his neck, could see Ronzo taking careful steps to the kitchen, not turning his back as Poppy gasped a laugh. Tora glanced down at her, tearing his gaze from his own fuckin’ face—the stupid motherfuckin’ haircut. She didn’t seem to notice, or maybe she was purposely ignoring his reaction as she quickly toed off her sneakers, calling out across the penthouse, “Quincey, what an <em>upgrade!</em>”</p>
<p>“Oh, I just had to, honey. Don’t you just love Lao’s work?” the blonde man rounded the corner of the kitchen, wine glass in hand as he waved his fingers at her, glancing back behind her at his brother who was glaring bloody fuckin’ murder at him. </p>
<p>“The fuck is this shit, Quince.”</p>
<p>“Yes, hello to you, too,” he took a sip of wine, staring at him. Fuck, the little motherfuckin’ shit. He was gonna wipe that shit-eatin’ grin right off his fuckin’ face. “Tora, imagine,” he said, gesturing broadly with a wave of his arm to the portrait, “it could be <em>you</em>. Lao loves the look, he’s on board, said he’d clear his whole schedule for a chance to work with what you’ve got going on,” he said, nodding solemnly before turning to murmur to Poppy, “you’ll work on him, won’t you? Lao’s actually quite busy.”</p>
<p>“I fuckin’ heard that, ya little—”</p>
<p>“Tora,” Poppy turned to beam back at him as Ronzo stepped around her, ducking into the kitchen. “Reward,” she mouthed at him, smirking as he leaned his head back on a sigh, crossing his arms across his chest. Fuck, she had him wrapped around her little fuckin’ finger, didn’t she. He watched as she bit her lower lip imagining her makin’ that face in nothin’ but the strappy heels.</p>
<p>Walking over to her, he dipped his head, “that reward’s tonight, right?”</p>
<p>“Depends,” she smiled, slipping one of her fingers in his pocket. “You’re going to play nice, right? No biting?”</p>
<p>He laughed once before letting the smile fall from his face, “only where ya like it, sweetheart.” He watched her lips part. “What’s the word tonight,” he murmured, referencing the code they’d created years ago—a surefire way to guarantee that she knew if he needed to leave a situation where they were around other people and vice versa.</p>
<p>She stared at his lips as she whispered, “incentive.”</p>
<p>Tora inclined his head on a nod once before standing back up. He could do this, no way he wasn’t gettin’ his reward come the end of the night. Just had to make it through a fuckin’ cookin’ class, he thought, shaking his head as he watched Bobby walk toward the kitchen. He tilted his head, staring at her ass—<em>was she swayin’ it more than usual? </em>She glanced over her shoulder, a smirk playing at her lips before she entered the kitchen. Sweet fuck, it was gonna be a long fuckin’ night.</p>
<p>“Oi, Big Bro, you comin’? We’re partners,” Ronzo called then as Bobby disappeared, could hear her laughin’ with his brother already as Tora’s felt his mouth fall open, his nostrils flaring. The younger man leaned over the kitchen island with a smile that quickly died right on his stupid fuckin’ face. <em>Oh, absolutely the fuck not</em>. Tora watched as Ronzo slipped backwards into the kitchen, seemingly trying to melt through the floor just as Quincey took his place at the counter, propping his chin on his hands, grinning at Tora.</p>
<p>“Quincey.”</p>
<p>“Tora.”</p>
<p>Tora opened his mouth, taking a step toward the kitchen, but before he could spit out the words, the front door buzzed.</p>
<p>“Oh, good,” Quincey beamed, pointing to the door. “Tora, that’s Jeff, our chef for the night.” Tora tilted his head.</p>
<p>“Who the fuck is Jeff? What happ—”</p>
<p>“Turns out Laura’s on vacation in Bali or something,” Quincey grinned wider, “be a dear and get the door, honey. Wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Is the chef Jeff Probst?!?! (lmaooooo no but hmm?)</p>
<p>Stay tuned for that Ikea scene lol, gonna make it its own thing though cause this is getting way tf out of hand 🙄🙄</p>
<p>In the meantime, gonna get back to Chasing Poppies heehee</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Jeff the chef</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tora wants to go home, but there's a cooking competition to be had, hosted by this Jeff fucker.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Aw, I missed writing this one--makes me laugh to have Tora uncomfy in a light-hearted scenario without the angst.</p><p>As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 7</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, good,” Quincey beamed, pointing to the door. “Tora, that’s Jeff, our chef for the night.” Tora tilted his head.</p><p>“Who the fuck is Jeff? What happ—”</p><p>“Turns out Laura’s on vacation in Bali or something,” Quincey grinned wider, “be a dear and get the door, honey. Wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.”</p><p>Tora clenched his jaw, exhaling harshly, nearly growling at his brother. The little shit fuckin’ knew that he didn’t like surprises, had never fuckin’ liked surprises. Shit, Tora knew he’d made a lot of progress in the last couple of years as the clan had faded into a distant hum in the background—always the white noise, though at least not controlling his everyday life anymore. And it wasn’t just cause his therapist told him so—he could feel the anger slide off him most of the time, had finally seemed to understand what Bobby had told him all those years ago about holding onto shit—poison. Still, there were some holdover tendencies and characteristics from all his years of conditioning, of living under Vincent and his men—one of which was not bein’ a fuckin’ fan of surprises unless they were comin’ from Bobby in the goddamn bedroom. And even then he had a limit.</p><p>As he opened his mouth, taking a step closer to the kitchen, Poppy appeared around the corner again. Her eyes were wide as she took in his expression, lips parted. Waiting. Knew she was waiting for him to say the code word, <em>incentive</em>. He could feel it on his tongue, ready to tumble from his lips. But Poppy, waiting—her face, her body as she raised a hand to the wall, so full of concern, the love pouring out of her across the room. <em>Fuck</em>, Tora felt the air rush out of his lungs as he closed his eyes—he could do this for her. And besides, it’d be fuckin’ worth it, he knew that. When he opened his eyes again, he bit his lip between his teeth, trying not to grimace, holding her gaze before turning back to Quincey.</p><p>“I at least get Poppy?” he nodded toward her, glanced over and saw the smile tugging back up her lips.</p><p>Quincey laughed, scoffing, “oh <em>god</em> no, honey. You know I’m hopeless in the kitchen and she’s the best one here.” Tora watched as Quincey reached around, throwing his arm around her shoulders. Her jaw shifted to the side as she bit her lip around a smile at the expression darkening on Tora’s face.</p><p>“The fuck ya mean? S’not a fuckin’ competition,” Tora grunted, folding his arms across his chest as he glowered at them. Two peas in a fuckin’ pod, goddamn.</p><p>“Oh,” she piped up, one finger in the air pointed toward the ceiling as she smirked across the room at him. “That’s where you’re wrong, see, I’ve been missing out on these cooking classes,” she said, ducking out from under Quincey’s arm and sidling across the room, stepping up to Tora and trailing her finger along the dip where his forearms crushed together. “Even though you <em>know</em> I love to cook, love to bake,” she smiled, peering up at him in a clear attempt to get him to smile back, “love to make you things, sure. But <em>especially</em>,” she said, running her fingers along his arms as she emphasized the word, “love being in the kitchen <em>with</em> you.”</p><p>He huffed. “I can’t cook for shit and ya know that,” he said. It was true—any time they cooked together, she ended up having to walk him through with baby steps, fuckin’ hand-holdin’ through the entire goddamn recipe. Most of the time he ended up on knife duty—one of the only things he was good at in the kitchen. That, protein shakes, and sex on the counter, <em>pfft</em>. They both knew he was very good at distracting her.</p><p>“You know it’s not about the cooking, though,” she said softly, tilting her head up at him on a gentle smile. Felt his heart fuckin’ melting, how the hell did she always fuckin’ do that?</p><p>Tora swallowed, trying to cling to his frustration. “Was a gift for ya, Bobby,” he murmured, lowering his voice and leaning down slightly so that the other men wouldn’t hear him, just as the doorbell rang again. “Bringin’ ya along would’ve ruined the surprise.” <em>There</em>, he thought. <em>Another reason surprises sucked ass</em>.</p><p>“Mmm,” she hummed, her finger still tracing up and down his arm as she looked down then back up at him through her lashes, heat ablaze in her stare. <em>Fuck</em>. His nostrils flared as she bit her lip, could feel his cock twitch in his jeans as he took a deep breath, lips pressed tight. Couldn’t drag his eyes away from hers. “You’re right, would’ve been a shame. I did love the gift, but now that the surprise is over…” she smiled and Tora vaguely registered Quincey and Ronzo moving in the kitchen behind them, could hear the sound of ceramic on the marble as they moved around. “Maybe we see what you’ve got up your sleeve from all these private lessons.” She leaned up on her tiptoes, bringing her lips to his jaw as she whispered, “because it’s <em>definitely</em> a competition. And with a pretty big reward.” She lowered back down to the floor and Tora glanced down the length of her body, her feet flat on the carpet. Could already see her in those shoes he liked…fuck.</p><p>“Fuck’s sake, fine,” he muttered as she beamed at him, reaching up again to press a kiss against his jaw.</p><p>“Tora, door!” Quincey called from the kitchen, “And Poppy, dear, could you grab my phone from the coffee table, I think I left it out there.” Tora leaned his head back on a sigh, rolling his eyes up at the ceiling as he felt Bobby squeeze his arm once before ducking around him.</p><p>“Reward,” she murmured to him again as she slipped the phone into his hand. “I got the door,” she tapped his chest once, her fingers digging into his shirt for a moment—could feel her nails press into his skin as he bit back a groan. “Play nice, tiger.” She turned back to look at him with a smirk and Tora shook his head, huffing to himself as he stalked back to the kitchen. <em>Play nice, pfft</em>. He shot a glare at Quincey who was lounging against the counter, wine glass in hand.</p><p>“Dunno what ya playin’ at, but if ya pull anythin’ stupid, I’ll—”</p><p>“Mhmm,” Quincey nodded, cutting him off as he reached out and plucked his phone from between Tora’s outstretched fingers. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he smiled—looked almost like he’d already done somethin’ that Tora was gonna hate, but before he could demand to know what the fuck was goin’ on, his brother continued, “why don’t you help Gyu set up your workstation,” he smiled before tilting his head to the side, peering at the undercut. “You know, honey, I could trim that up for you tonight. Looking a bit scruffy,” he squinted. “I mean, still a good look, don’t get me wrong, and Lao will love it either way—”</p><p>“<em>Tch</em>, Quince,” Tora reached out, shoving his brother’s arm as he pushed past him to stand beside Ronzo at the island, who shrunk away from him slightly as Tora glanced over the setup, the knives laid out in front of their cutting board, the bowls of spices, onions, peppers, limes, some leafy shit. A bunch of pale, slimy shit on a plate.</p><p>“The fuck are we makin’,” he bit out, reaching out to touch the plate, watching as the little curled pieces of—<em>was that shrimp?—</em>jiggled. He glanced over at Ronzo who was watching him with wide eyes, his body leaned slightly away. The younger man kept glancing up at the undercut—Tora had half a mind to take his hair down, hide the fuckin’ stubby-ass growth, but depending on what they were cooking, that might not be the best idea. He huffed, realizing he was gonna have to keep the hair up. Shit, maybe he <em>should</em> let Quince cut it again. Bobby’d really liked it—he was sure as shit she wouldn’t mind. And it’d felt nice havin’ her hands on it, wouldn’t mind feelin’ that again.</p><p>“Big Bro, why don’t I…” Ronzo trailed off as Tora reached for the largest knife, placing it onto his cutting board under his palm and shooting a glare at the auburn-haired man. As he opened his mouth to tell him to quit starin’ at his fuckin’ hair, he heard Poppy’s laugh from the doorway—the fake one she used when she was uncomfortable or unsure of what to say. He hoped it wasn’t the former as his eyes sought her out from where he stood, the handle of the knife pressed against his hand.</p><p>As she came into view from the front of the penthouse, he frowned. She seemed surprised, a little caught off guard as she met his curious stare, his eyebrows raising in question as he looked her up and down, checking. She seemed alright, but a moment later his question was answered as the man who’d been at the door followed her into the penthouse. Tora felt his eyes open wide, jaw clenching as he took in this Jeff—“no fuckin’ way,” he murmured under his breath, pretty sure he recognized the fucker’s face. He watched as Poppy led the man to kitchen, was vaguely aware of Quincey behind him, pushing off the counter and placing the wine glass down before he turned to grin at Tora.</p><p>This Jeff fucker was stocky, about half a foot taller than Poppy, but that wasn’t sayin’ much—she was so fuckin’ tiny, most people were taller than her. He wore a white jacket with buttons running down the front in two vertical lines, matched his tall white hat. Tora felt his lips part, his brow falling heavy over his eyes, as the man removed the hat, placing it on the kitchen counter beside Quincey’s wine glass, all but confirming what Tora had suspected. His long dark blonde hair was pulled up into a bun to reveal an undercut—same as his. Except, no, that wasn’t right. <em>Tora’s</em> was the same as the man’s, not the other way around. He knew without a doubt, as he turned to level a glare at his brother, that this was the same man they’d been watching for weeks on the fuckin’ TV, the same fuckin’ bartender-turned-psychic that Tora had modeled his own damn haircut after, the same asshole who Bobby had been fuckin’ drooling over just the other week. <em>How in the fuck—</em></p><p>“Shit, dude, no way,” the man flicked his wrist, palm up as he pointed from his waist at Tora’s hair, like some kind of stupid fuckin’ impersonation of shooting underhanded. Somehow, Tora doubted the man had ever held a gun before, <em>pfft</em>. “Sweet cut, bro. Hey, is that you over there?” The man turned halfway back toward the entrance to the penthouse, gesturing at the life-size nude model plastered on the wall, “sick bod, sweet tats. I wanna get one on my—” the man moved the finger gun to his waist before stopping himself. “I’ll tell you later,” he grinned like they had some special fuckin’ secret between them.</p><p>Tora clenched his jaw as he rolled his eyes to the ceiling, looking back down at his cutting board only after he heard Poppy inhale loudly. Tora felt his nostrils flare as the man lifted his other hand, placing it heavy on her shoulder. It’d been years since he’d tamed the urge to punch any asshole who hit on her, but this fucker had his hand on her. Over the fuckin’ line. She met Tora’s eyes, which he knew were blazing, widening her own and giving him a pointed stare. He exhaled slow, knowing he couldn’t do anything. Wouldn’t do anything—not unless she asked. Shit, he hoped she’d let him scare this fucker before the night was over. His touch was innocent enough right now, but Tora still fuckin’ hated it.</p><p>“Tora,” she said slowly, “this is Jeff.”</p><p>Tora flicked his gaze back to Quincey who was wearing a shit-eating grin again, walking over to meet the man from the TV show, “Jeff, I’m so glad you could join us on such short notice. We’re all such big fans of the show—I had no idea that you’re actually an actor, though, just available for hire,” he turned to smile back at Tora before looking around at Jeff again who was nodding emphatically, “and lucky for us that you’re not just a reality show contestant, a bartender or a psychic—you’re also a chef. Who knew?” he shook his head, laughing.</p><p>“Honestly, bro,” Jeff drawled, his words pulling from his mouth like syrup he spoke so slow, “you pick up a lot working the bar at a restaurant. Don’t get me wrong, though,” he said waving his free hand down the length of his body, his other arm still heavy on Poppy’s shoulder, “I’m no professionally-trained chef or anything, but I can make a mean ceviche.”</p><p>Quincey sighed on a smile, shaking his head, “and that is exactly what you’re going to be teaching us how to make tonight, we are so thrilled to have your expertise, Jeff.” He extended his hand to the other blonde man who reached out with a fist. Under any other circumstance, Tora could’ve laughed at the weird fuckin’ hand dance they did as Jeff switched to an open palm just as Quincey made a loose fist, but he was too fuckin’ furious to find the humor in his brother’s discomfort, watching as Poppy quickly seized the opportunity to duck out from under Jeff’s other hand hand, sliding back into the kitchen. As she passed behind Tora, she ran her fingers along his lower back just above the waistband of his pants. When he turned to look at her where she stood at the workstation beside his and Ronzo’s, she smiled, mouthing, <em>good tiger</em>.</p><p>He huffed, rolling his eyes as Ronzo leaned over the counter, turning to his right to look past Tora’s large frame, whispering, “Poppy, can he really cook?”</p><p>She leaned around Tora, “it would appear that way, but I think it’s a safe bet we might need takeout after this.”</p><p>Ronzo sighed, nodding his head as he stood back up. Quincey moved back around the counter then, lifting his wine glass and joining Poppy on her other side as Jeff got situated on the opposite side of the island, leaning over slightly to check out their stations as he rolled up his sleeves. “Actually,” he said, halfway up rolling his left one. “You guys mind if I just take this off?” he flipped the collar of the white jacket. “It’s just a costume I got for an audition,” he said.</p><p>“Oh, did you get the part?” Poppy asked as Tora brought his hands down on the counter, leaning all his weight into his palms as he turned slowly to stare at her. The fuck was she makin’ small talk for? They were here to fuckin’ cook and leave. As quick as fuckin’ possible. She glanced at him, surprised to find him watching her as she mouthed <em>what?</em></p><p>“You know, unfortunately not,” Jeff said, shucking the jacket off and hanging it over the side of the stool beside him, peering over the third workstation that was set up for him. “But lucky for you, since I didn’t get the part, I had to keep bartending and I picked up some sweet tricks along the way.” Jeff wagged a finger through the air in a lazy triangle between the three cutting boards, “see, now I see four of you and only two boards between you, so…” he drew a breath before grinning wide, all his teeth—unnaturally white—on display, “this what I think it is?”</p><p>Quincey waved a hand as he finished a sip of wine, quickly putting the glass down on the counter as he swallowed and gasped, “yes! Yes, it is!”</p><p>“Are we having a good old-fashioned face-off—reality TV edition—hosted by yours truly, Jeff the chef?”</p><p>Quincey nodded his head fiercely as Tora dragged his gaze up from Poppy’s face to his brother’s, leveling him with a cold stare. “Oh, cheer up, honey,” he said, smirking. “I’m sure you’ll get a nice reward if you win. <em>And if we win</em>,” he went on louder, cutting off Tora’s sharp response, “you agree to see Lao and recreate that,” he pointed across the room to the entryway of the penthouse, the model glistening with oil, taped over with Tora’s face from the birthday photo and the stupid fuckin’ pictures of koi and peonies. “In all its glory.”</p><p>“Never agreed to—” Tora stopped short as he glanced down at Poppy, meeting her eyes, the heat in her gaze as she bit her lip, her eyes dipping from his stare to his parted mouth before she spoke.</p><p>“Definitely a nice reward.” She drew out the last two syllables. “Right, Tora?”</p><p>“Now, that’s the spirit right there. Love me a juicy competition between friends,” Jeff said, clapping twice before rubbing his palms together. <em>Pfft, friends.</em> Didn’t think that friends did the shit he and Bobby were gonna do later. He huffed, realizing if there was a chance at any of that happening, they’d need to stay the whole time. And he’d need to win this fuckin’ competition.</p><p>“Aw,” Quincey murmured, a little smile on his stupid lips. “Friends,” he repeated on a sigh. “Gyu, you hear that?”</p><p>Tora turned to his left, looking down at Ronzo who was staring at the security monitors across the kitchen, watching the screen of the penthouse lobby like it was a fuckin’ TV show or somethin’. Pointedly ignoring everything going on in the kitchen.</p><p>“Oi, swear to god, Ronzo,” Tora elbowed him to get his attention as the man startled, “no fuck-ups,” he growled low out of the corner of his mouth, picking up the knife on his cutting board and flipping it over quickly in his hand before palming it down on the counter.</p><p>“Big Bro,” Ronzo gulped, his eyes on the knife, “just so we’re clear, I know I’ve got a lot of years experience as kitchen staff, but I wasn’t the one <em>making</em> the food, you know?”</p><p>Tora blinked at him, gesturing to Jeff as he hissed, “if he can pick up shit bein’ a bartender why the fuck didn’t you when you were actually workin’ in the goddamn kitchen?”</p><p>Ronzo shrugged, opening his mouth to respond just as Tora heard Quincey murmur to Poppy, “Lao likes the wet look. I only have one bottle of body oil left, but I think it’s <em>just</em> enough to cover all those muscles. How do you think he feels about glitter?”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Will this end at 8 chapters? I mean probably not, but who knows</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>✨ I’m on IG now @melarela1223 where I post WIPs, inspo, and other random shit about my MPL fics ✨</p></blockquote></div></div>
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